


a lie that speaks the truth

by incognitajones



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, M/M, POV Second Person, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017, Treat, lies and lying to yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/incognitajones
Summary: You’ve spent so much time lying that you no longer know the truth. Are you doing any good in this place, or are you fooling yourself that one person working in secret against the vast scope of this project can accomplish anything?





	a lie that speaks the truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



You're a rotten liar.

The woman who used to laughingly tell you that is dead. The little girl who proved it with her delighted scream of joy every time she wormed the news of a surprise out of you is gone.

Is it still true? It must have been, back then. Lyra was scrupulously honest, even when it would have been better to lie, so she must have been telling the truth.

But for the past fifteen years you've done nothing but lie: to Orson, to Tarkin, to your colleagues. To yourself. And now to Bodhi.

You’ve spent so much time lying that you no longer know the truth. Are you doing any good in this place, or are you fooling yourself that one person working in secret against the vast scope of this project can accomplish anything? Should you have thrown yourself down from the cliff the moment you landed on Eadu?

You’re not stupid. (The galaxy would have been better off if you were.) You know that Rook admires you, has a crush on you. He could love you, if this were the time and place for it. If you let him. You tell yourself not to encourage it… but at the same time, you need him.

You need his shy determination and courage, his growing awareness of the hollow Imperial facade. It helps keep you grounded, keep you focused on your self-imposed mission. And then—then you realize that you can use him.

 

When Bodhi slams the door open and storms into the lab, his sodden flightsuit dripping and his boots leaving muddy tracks on the pristine floor, at first you think this must be a dream. You’ve never seen him this furious. 

Tears shine in his eyes and his face is contorted with rage as he shouts at you, “You knew! You _knew_ , didn’t you!” His fingers bite into your shoulders and for a moment you’re too stunned to move, despite how dangerous this is for both of you.

“You knew it would be Jedha! My home, my family…” His voice cracks on a sob, and his eyes close. His weight sags from your frame, dragging you down.

“I didn’t know,” you tell him, and you’d swear on Lyra’s grave that’s true. It _is_. 

But it's also true you always suspected the first live-fire test would be Jedha. It’s Orson’s style: make a statement, destroy the evidence, and punish the dissenters—all in one blazing strike.

“Let’s go, come on,” you urge Bodhi, pulling him out of the lab while your colleagues carefully avoid looking at both of you. They find your relationship with the young pilot distasteful for many reasons: class, age, the lopsided nature of it that makes it seem like one of you is using the other, even though none of them have guessed the true nature of the transaction.

Bodhi’s endangered both of you by barging into the surveilled lab with his outburst. That much can easily be explained away; he’s Jedhan, of course he’d let his emotions get away with him when he heard the news. But if Orson is motivated to look deeper, to check some of the door entry logs and hangar camera footage—it could get much, much worse.

If only you’d been ready to send Bodhi away with the message earlier. He’d be long gone by now, hopefully safe with the Rebellion. But you delayed, hoping to encrypt a complete set of plans into it, which would make the strategic target clearer. Now that's impossible.

You half-carry Bodhi through the facility, dragging him into the hangar and onto his cargo shuttle. After he explained how every pilot learned to slice their ship’s black box early on (“How do you think we’d get away with smuggling anything otherwise?”), all of your clandestine meetings that weren’t for sex only have been in the cockpit of his shuttle.

The Empire can know about you and Bodhi fucking. Orson can watch, for all you care; and he probably does, or at least saves some of the recordings for his own private enjoyment. That’s good, that’s a distraction. 

But he can’t find out about the other activities the two of you share. Treason is what he’d consider obscene; not the sight of you using someone younger and more idealistic to make yourself feel like a better man.

You heave Bodhi’s limp body into the pilot’s seat. “I’m sorry.” 

His hands are still trembling, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice is riven with horror. “I was barely out of atmo when it fired. One shot, Galen, one shot and the Holy City was destroyed! Is that what you were working on all this time? Creating that thing?” 

“You have to go now.” You pull the datachip out of your pocket and press it into his hand, folding his shaking fingers tightly over it. “ _Now_ , Bodhi. Before it’s too late and they do it to another planet. Take this to the Rebels.”

It will make sense to Orson, Bodhi deserting after what they did to Jedha. It might even buy him some extra time if they think of him as nothing but a disaffected coward.

He turns his hand over and grips yours. The sharp corners of the chip dig into the skin of your palm. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

How can you? After so many years spent conciliating the Imperials, appeasing them, soothing them into thinking that you were cowed into submission? No. After fifteen years of acting, surely the role becomes the man at some point. You're rotten, nearly to the centre, and you're a liar; but you don't want the boy you've deceived to know either of those truths. 

“I will,” you say, holding his hands and his gaze. “I’ll find a way to get off-planet and meet you. But you need to leave first. You must. Find the Rebellion, through Saw Gerrera if you can. Give them the chip.”

It's too late already. There’s not time enough for him to find the Rebels. But you can still send Bodhi away for his own safety, because the last chance has always been you. 

Now that the machine has been proven, they'll want to use it again, this time on something bigger. Orson will let you observe, if you ask. You’re sure you can fool him. You can flatter him, make him believe you’re eager to observe the power of your creation unleashed. And by now you know its complete schematics: inside out, backwards, forwards, and sideways. Somehow you'll find a way to direct a blow at the target.

If the Rebellion can’t take the shot, you will. 

You bend down and kiss Bodhi farewell, tasting salt on his lips. You squeeze his hand around the chip once more and let your fingers slip away before you turn to leave. 

“Goodbye, Bodhi. I’ll see you again soon.” 

It’s one of the last lies you’ll ever tell, so you make it a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> I know second person isn't universally popular, but it was the perspective this story seemed to demand.
> 
> (Also, since the Rogue One timeline is bonkers in any case, I chose the script's version of Galen having been with the Empire for 15 years, instead of 13 as cited by the novelization and Wookieepedia.)
> 
> Thank you to **englishable** for timely beta-reading  & encouragement.


End file.
